


A Small Gesture

by LilyMJFae



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Other, Sisters, paints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyMJFae/pseuds/LilyMJFae
Summary: Elain wants to give Feyre something that would make her happy. A small take on the summer Elain buys paints for Feyre
Relationships: Elain Archeron & Feyre Archeron
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	A Small Gesture

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a small headcanon that Elain occasionally sells her flowers, but because they're from a poor village it's never a lot and not worth anything. She doesn't think it would matter and wants Feyre to have all the credit for how hard she's working. I also headcanonned that there are vegetables in Elain's garden because i honestly thought it would make a little sense.

There was a certain level of guilt that constantly plagued her, even as she sat in the garden that she loved so dearly. She was not strong, not a fighter. She could not bring herself to bear the thought of hunting like her sister did. And her older sister...well she was just too mad. She was certain that if she redirected that anger, she could be at least as skilled a huntress as their younger sister. But instead she waited, trying to force their father to step up. Their poor, broken father, who’d lost the love of his life and everything else except for his daughters. Elain found it hard to blame him for anything, even though they’d lost their mother and everything but him. But she could blame herself and even Nesta, for the things Feyre had to do.

But Elain knew she didn’t have the stomach for hunting. She did have a few small vegetables in their garden though. It wasn’t enough to ever get them by much. Not even enough to attempt to store them, not that they had a proper root cellar to store them in anyway. But enough that in spring and summer, they could have something with whatever Feyre caught. Things they could make into soup, and even to just help make the meat last a little longer. But she had a secret.

They’d been doing okay this year, okay enough, that Elain had started something in secret. When Feyre was out hunting, she’d take some of the best clippings from her own garden, and walked into town. There she’d tried to sell them to anyone who would buy them. Of course their village was small, and not many could afford the extra things, even something so small as a flower. But occasionally boys could be convinced it would win them the heart of the girl they fancied. She’d not told anyone about selling her flowers. What she managed to bring in was so miniscule, even compared to her father. And she wanted them to appreciate Feyre. Appreciate the hard work that she did for them. Instead, Elain kept such a small portion of it buried in the garden. The rest she slipped into the spot Feyre kept their money. Not a word to anyone about it though.

Today, as she wandered through the village, she heard about a fair that was going to be held. Several traveling merchants would be in, more than usual even. And Elain knew, knew that they’d been doing just well enough that they could go look. So as it hit nearing afternoon, she made her way back, the few flowers she’d brought, gone, coins clutched tightly in her hand. When she got home she knelt in her garden, and dug up the spot next to her rose bush and dropped only one copper piece into the bag she kept hidden there before reburying it and then made her way to the room she shared with her sisters, slipping past Nesta and her father, dropping the remaining coins into the bag Feyre kept their money in. Once that was done, she returned to the small main room of the house that held everything else. 

Feyre walked through the door shortly after though, and Elain gave her a small smile in greeting. The sight of the dead animal Feyre held, churned her stomach. And though she was starving, she knew what still needed to happen. It needed to be skinned, cleaned. Cut to pieces. Elain couldn’t stomach it. She looked to Nesta, a small piece of her wondering if her oldest sister would ever offer to take on the job. But as she looked back to Feyre, eyes wide with guilt, she knew Feyre was going to have to clean it too. She sighed, as Nesta began to nag.

Instead, Elain worked on gathering a few of the vegetables and starting a fire so that they could cook the meat once Feyre had returned. She’d decided that she would cook that night, wanting to convince Feyre that they should go to the faire at the end of the week. She wanted to take what few coins she kept hidden, and do something, surprise her sister.

When dinner was finally ready, and everyone at the table Elain chose her moment carefully, waiting until everyone had at least eaten something before speaking.

“I was in town today,” she said softly. “There’s going to be a fair at the end of the week. There will be a whole bunch of travelling merchants.”

Feyre sighed. “We shouldn’t be looking at anything extra. We should save what we have. Winters are hard enough as it is.”

But Nesta perked up. Elain knew she would, if either to defend Elain or to push those buttons, she didn’t know. But she knew Nesta would insist too. And perhaps it was unfair of Elain to rely on that, but she did.

“We should go. We might be able to find new shoes or cloaks,” Nesta insisted. “We need those.”

They didn’t. Not yet anyway. Maybe in another year or so. But Nesta seemed to like to push them to the edge. Even Elain wasn’t sure why, why she pushed Feyre even. But she had a feeling it had to do with their father. Because while Elain understood how broken their father had become after everything, Nesta resented their father for being broken.

“I just think it would be nice,” Elain offered, “if we could see what there was. If there is anything we can afford that might be helpful, we might get a good deal for it.”

Feyre only sighed again. And Elain felt that pang of guilt. She didn’t want to push Feyre, but she’d hoped that perhaps they could find something for fun, because finding the little joys in things was just as important to living, to surviving, as eating.

“Please Feyre,” she said quietly as Nesta finished her own attempts to convince Feyre to go. “It could be nice to even just look. Perhaps we can even take a few of your carvings, father.” She looked at the man who’d been quiet. “Perhaps we could even trade some of those.” 

Their father gave a small grunt and nodded. About as much as he would respond unless he felt a need to speak up. But often, he let them sort themselves out. 

And with that, with the cold look from Nesta, Feyre gave one more sigh, one of resignation. “Fine. I have the pelt from today to sell anyway and I’ll see if I can get another.”

Elain beamed, though that guilt still ate away at her. “Thank you!” And perhaps she should have mentioned that the gratitude wasn’t just for going to the faire, but for everything. But she didn’t really think about it.

The week past and finally the three sisters were heading into town. Nesta had even rosen early and cut wood, something she only did when she was getting something she wanted. Elain had rosen and went to tend to her garden, as far as her sisters were considered. And she did tend to it, after digging up the small bag of coins she had saved and hiding it in a small pocket in her skirts. She was going to find something for Feyre. And she knew Feyre would give them each something small to spend, so if she could she was going to find something. Something to make up for the seeds that Feyre would buy for her. 

She enjoyed walking with her sisters into the village, if only because it seemed to be one of the only times they all got along. It was one of the only times they spent together in a peaceful silence, or actually getting along. 

“I’ll see what I can get for the pelts when we get into the village,” Feyre said. “Then we can look around…”

Elain nodded. She knew what Feyre meant by “look around”.  _ Please don’t buy anything extravagant _ . Which for them, didn’t take a lot. But she hoped she had enough to find something for Feyre.

Selling the pelts went quicker than usual, and even Feyre seemed to have high spirits, as if she’d made a good amount. And for that, Elain was grateful. Grateful to see her sister smile. Feyre gave them each a small handful of coins, and then the sisters split up. Nesta even didn’t follow Elain, and she was slightly happy for that as she made her way to the center of town where more vendors than she’d seen in a long time were set up. 

The tables had various things. Fabrics that once upon a time, Elain could have purchased and had a dress made from, and she knew her mother would have done it too. Boots that would likely last longer than the ones they could often afford. Fur lined cloaks that made her fingertips sing with the desire to feel how soft they were.

And then...then she saw it. The vendor with the perfect gift for Feyre. And in fairness, she saw Feyre admiring their wares first, before walking away without having bought a single thing. Elain knew she wouldn’t buy anything for herself. She wondered if Feyre was too concerned, or too proud to ask for help too. To ask for more than chopping firewood. She supposed she wouldn’t know. She wasn’t able to read minds.

But Elain approached the vendor, with canvas and brushes and paints and knew what to get her sister. 

“Was it your sister who just walked away?” the merchant as Elain looked at everything.

“Yes,” she answered. She didn’t ask how they knew. She and her sisters had all inherited their mother’s honey blonde hair. “She loves to paint.”

The woman gave a nod, light shifting through her own wheat blonde hair. “She didn’t buy anything for herself.”

Elain gave another nod. “It isn’t like her…”

There were so many beautiful paints, in so many colors. And the brushes looked extravagant. “I want to get her something,” Elain said. “But I don’t have much.”

She opened her palm to reveal the coins Feyre had given her and reached into her pocket for the coins she’d been holding on to, emptying the bag into her open palm. “What...what can I get with this?” 

The woman had a look that told Elain everything. She couldn’t get Feyre enough. Not what she wanted. Perhaps not even more than a tin. It was ridiculous to hope that she could get something so nice for her sister.

“Hold on,” the woman said, getting up and going to the crates behind her. She rummaged through them as Elain waited. When she came back she had three small tins in hand, and two small brushes. “I can sell you these.” 

She offered them out for Elain to look at. They were the three base colors. Red, yellow, and blue. Feyre could do a lot with that. She wished that she could do more, even get a couple more colors, but that was asking a lot. She gave a smile, and nodded.

“Thank you. I think this is perfect.”

Elain was thrilled. It wasn’t nearly enough. Feyre deserved more. But it was something and she’d wanted to do it. She couldn’t wait to give her sister the paints.


End file.
